


You'll need that scarf later

by Harker13, Masamune7



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Cock Rings, Consensual Kink, Eventual Happy Ending, Face Slapping, Foursome, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Gangbang, Hate Sex, Incest, Light BDSM, Light Sadism, Love/Hate, M/M, Master/Pet, Medical Kink, Medical Torture, Sadism, Sherlock is a Brat, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harker13/pseuds/Harker13, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masamune7/pseuds/Masamune7
Summary: Kinktober 08. SadismKinktober 09. PetKinktober 10: Hate fuckSherlock, John, Mycroft and Greg had reached an agreement that for one night a month ... they would give themselves to pleasure in any form they may require.





	You'll need that scarf later

**Author's Note:**

> I was taking too damn long to catch up with the daily prompts so ... I just merged three of them. Never really tought of these type of scenarios until, again, Masamune7 sent me a wonderful foursome fic about Myc, Greg, John and Lock; that kept going for over 30 chapters ... and, yeah ... I was doomed and cursed from that moment until now.
> 
> Thanks for reading! ... please remember English is not my native language so feel free to let me know any grammar errors you find.
> 
> Basic disclosure! - I do not condone violence or any form of non consensualized sexual encounters. Love each other, give hugs and pet kittens.

_What is precisely the meaning of Power Dynamics? _

With this question, four extremely busy and stressed men began a six-hour talk where an agreement was reached to reserve a whole Saturday night, a month, for the sole purpose of “help each other to unwind” … using quite unorthodox methods. They decided unanimously that the best place to carry out their recreational activities would be Mycroft’s place at Crusader House, in Pall Mall.

Mycroft made all the pertinent arrangements to make sure none of the guards ever questioned the monthly visits of his three guests: Greg Lestrade, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Special instructions were given to omit any type of interruption, no matter what anyone heard, while the four of them were together inside the flat.

\-----

**Saturday 9:00 p.m. sharp. -**

_“Who’s turn is it this time?” – _asked John, while heading to Mycroft’s kitchen to get a glass of water – “_You want to flip coins? Pull out matches?”_

_“I’m fine with whatever method all of you decide; whoever turn it is, just remember to make it fun; it’s been an awfully long week” – _Mycroft rubbed his face while speaking, he looked exhausted.

_“Wouldn’t be here if we weren’t planning on having fun, brother mine. Now why don’t you shut your mumbling for a second and let us all proceed on how to sort this out” – _Sherlock’s lack of taste while speaking wasn’t something Mycroft wasn’t used to, but today everything that left his mouth sounded even more annoying.

_“How I wish it is your turn, beast …” - _Mycroft spoke through gritted teeth.

The luck was thrown; the four men looked at each other as the youngest among them tried to run away; somewhat for the thrill of the chase as part of the game, and because he realized he had talked too much and too soon… a very recurring mistake in his life. They caught and pinned him against the wall. Sherlock grunted as his face was smacked repeatedly against the cold concrete forcing him to calm down and cooperate. John grabbed him by back of his neck, almost spraining his arm until he was knees down on the floor. He was let go until an irritated huff left his mouth letting the rest know he was willing to cooperate.

_“C’mon, you know what to do” _– Mycroft took of his jacket and folded it carefully over a chair, followed by his waistcoat. He removed his cufflinks and gracefully folded his shirt up to his elbows, undoing the first button of it as well – “_Don’t make us wait; you know how this works, we don’t have all night”._

He approached his briefcase and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves, he adjusted them while smiling at the sole image of what was coming. He also gave one pair to John and another to Lestrade.

_“Stand up, Lock” – _Mycroft instructed. Sherlock started to undress himself; pulling off his scarf and coat, then took off one shoe at a time. He looked annoyed but expectant, it wasn’t supposed to be his turn this time, he already had planned all he wanted to do to John. He even made a checklist. With bullet points.** – “**_C’mon, hurry up …”_ \- his big brother’s voice pulled him back to reality.

Sherlock started to unbutton his tight plum shirt while an evil smirk framed his face – “_Why are you in such a hurry? Are you afraid you would not be able to hold an erection much longer? Middl…”_ \- a slap came out of nowhere making him loose balance for a second, but proudly managing to stand in two feet while making an even more exasperated face.

_“It’s not your time for being rude, when your turn comes... then you can spit whatever crosses your mind … but now, keep going with the stripping” – _Lestrade tended to be the mediator between all of them, one with a fairly short amount of patience.

Sherlock took off the rest of his clothes in silence, until the only thing covering him from shame and embarrassment was a black strand of his own hair falling over his eyes, he sighed – “_Happy? Now, shall we …” -_ another slap hit him, this time making him loose balance and landing heavily on the floor.

John was smiling – “_That one, was actually … just for fun. Brat”._

\-----

**Lestrade** was the first to choose how this was going to evolve.

_“Tie him; hands on his back, make it uncomfortable. I’ll let you two be creative on where you’re going to put him”_ \- Mycroft and John executed Lestrade’s instructions immediately.

Each one grabbed Sherlock by one arm and headed him to the nearest chair. Both arms tied heavily behind his back entwined in a praying position. Both of his legs bent by the knee, ankles tied together just below his lower back, each to one chair leg. Thank God for this bloke’s good genes; his long and slim members made him malleable as a slug.

The recall of previous encounters made John twice as cautious with Sherlock; he took an extra couple of minutes to secure his waist to the chair, leaving him in a fully vulnerable and exposed position. Sherlock growled as both men worked in silence while Lestrade paced around the room. Greg approached an anxious Sherlock Holmes, who couldn’t help being hard and leaking already.

_“I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already losing it? What happened to your self-control, Lock?_” – he was interrupted by an unexpected spit landing right on his left cheek.

Sherlock grinned but said nothing.

Lestrade whipped away the sickening fluid, as he unfastened his bet and pulled it off. He hit Sherlock once in the ribs, one more inside his left thigh, and one more again in the ribs (just to make sure he felt it). Finally, he raised his leathery weapon of choice and swiped Sherlock’s face with all his strength. A small trace of blood appeared in his lower lip.

Sherlock grunted as his eyes rolled back for a split second. He was getting used to the incremental pain sensation and made a mental list of new and more savage ways to take revenge when it was Lestrade’s turn. His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of steps rapidly approaching behind him and putting the same leather belt who had just hit him, in his mouth parting his lips aggressively prohibiting him from speaking. Lestrade secured it with more violence than needed. Sherlock could feel how the DI trapped a bit of his hair just for the sake of punishing him a little more.

His member was on the verge of exploding by the sole idea of what else was Lestrade planning.

_“Myc, would you be a darling and pass me the cock ring from my briefcase?” -_ Lestrade knelt between Sherlock’s legs in front of the purplish member and gave one long and fast lick to all its length. Sherlock moaned as a dying animal would before shutting his eyes to prevent himself for coming. Greg put the ring deadly slow, down to the base of Sherlock’s cock, giving a little pat to his testicles in the way.

_“No-one’s gonna touch you until I say so … ok? They can do anything they want to your pretty little face and cavities… but today, your prick’s only mine… understood?” - _All three men nodded.

Sherlock shut his eyes avoiding Lestrade’s gaze. His drool had started to mix with his lip injury and dripped a line that traced down a red streak, gently running down to his aching manhood.

_“Good”_ – Greg smiled _– “I hate you’re so bloody gorgeous this way, but I hate even more the fact you know it” - _He took a bit of Sherlock’s saliva with his index finger and rub it against it and his thumb, proceeding to mix it, tenderly, with the pre-come coming out Sherlock’s glans.

He stood up, passing right a crossed arms Mycroft, watching from behind, waiting patiently.

_\-----_

_“Your turn, **Myc**”._

Mycroft approached Sherlock – “_As much as I adore the knots John and I made on you; I would need that filthy mouth of yours. John please loose the strap from his mouth”._

John obeyed Mycroft as a sore Sherlock articulated his mouth enough to regain the mobility of his jaw. If looks could kill, his brother would’ve been dead by now. How dreadful this was not an intellect competition, besides, he hated to admit he was a bit concerned of what was coming now that he made that terrible joke about his brother’s sexual potency a few minutes ago.

_“On your four, don’t lift your head. If you do so… Gregory has all my permission to smack you again and as much as he considers necessarily. Now, follow me … little beast”._

Mycroft sat on a near sofa as he pulled out his member and pulled back his head, relaxing a bit before the storm. Sherlock approached dog-like, keeping his gaze down as he placed between Mycroft’s legs. With and unknown ability until that moment, Mycroft lifted his right leg letting it rest on Sherlock’s shoulder as the other was standing firmly on the ground, reminding him not to lose control before his little brother.

_“Lick, as I say so… just the length. Make it slow”._

Sherlock’s eyes looked dark. He wasn’t ever amused about receiving orders from Mycroft, but for now he had won this match.

He did so… pulling out his long, hot tongue… tracing Mycroft’s slim but incredibly long cock. He moaned in acceptance. Sherlock’s cheeks were flushed, and he dared himself to be adventurous and took Mycroft inside his throat. Since this hadn’t been an order, Mycroft promptly pulled him out, grabbing Sherlock by the hair like a disobedient pet.

_“I’m the one giving the instructions, if I say lick… you just lick … if I say moan … you moan your heart out, if I say eat me all over, you fucking make sure I come all over your tonsils. Now… let’s resume what you interrupted, and this time close your eyes”._

Still in his four, Sherlock complied. His lips parted in anticipation at Mycroft’s next move. His thoughts were interrupted by a cold piece of cloth being wrapped around his eyes. Sherlock was sure he would’ve come in that instant by the touch of Mycroft’s fingers tying the blindfold, tracing all over his scalp, if hadn’t been for that damn cock ring. Fuck that damn ring.

_“Go”_ – Mycroft said, and as a Pavlovian response to the older Holmes orders, Sherlock moaned before reaching for the man’s cock. He swallowed until his cheeks hurt. Stroking with his tongue as fast as he could, tasting the unmistakable flavor of release as Mycroft came messily.

_“Don’t swallow … open your mouth” – _he said, breathing heavily.

Sherlock obeyed as he left all the liquid spread down his chin and chest. Nevertheless, he licked a bit of it from his lip and grinned in approval.

_“Your turn, John” _– said an agitated Mycroft while getting up the sofa and removing Sherlock’s blindfold.

\-----

_“Let’s move the scenery, shall we? secure him to the bed, please_” – **John** instructed, and Greg and Mycroft obeyed. He was using his “doctor voice”.

They laid him on the bed, extending his arms and legs as much as they could, strapping him by the wrists, forearms and biceps to the metal bar’s headboard (Mycroft special gift for this sole purpose). If Sherlock Holmes had been a man of faith, he would’ve been sure he was seconds away of being crucified.

John entered the room carrying a vintage doctor bag. He pulled out an old blood pressure meter; and put it around Sherlock’s neck. He started pumping the small valve, as it constricted his partner’s throat more and more with each pump. Sherlock whimpered as air wasn’t coming so easily anymore; there was a thin layer of sweat all over his face. He shut his eyes trying to ease his breathing … calm himself down.

_“That’s right … keep breathing. Inhale and exhale”._

Sherlock kept doing it, too busy to hear a skilled John opening the cap of a lube bottle, pulling off one of his black gloves, wetting his fingers.

_“One more, c’mon … inhale…”_ \- and as Sherlock submitted to the doctor’s orders, a finger was abruptly inserted in him, without any sort of preparation. Sherlock moaned in disgruntle and tried to pull up his head to reprehend John at least with his sight, but Lestrade and Mycroft held him in place. John kept moving his fingers, he was performing a perfect prostatic exam, not minding one-bit Sherlock’s feelings.

_“This is what we’re going to do … Sherlock? Nod if you understand what I’m saying. You can only speak, or shout if you prefer, if you are ABSOLUTELY SURE you’re about to pass out, understood?”_

Sherlock didn’t say anything as he was just struggling to keep his head up enough to look Watson in the eyes.

_“Understood?” _– John repeated while fingering him once again, this time more aggressively. Sherlock emitted a primal sound right from the deepens of his gut, but once he calmed himself a bit… he nodded.

John pulled down his trousers and pants enough to extract his member, gave him a few strokes before putting a condom and spitting right into Sherlock’s hole. He put himself in position and aligned the tip of his cock to Sherlock’s entrance, but before doing anything, he took the little valve of the blood pressure meter and squeezed it twice. Sherlock’s eye popped at the realization of what John’s was about to do, he gulped and puffed, repeatedly.

This urgency was John’s cue to start penetrating him, angrily. Rude. Raw. Savage. Every thrust much rougher than the previous one – “_I prayed a whole week for today to be your turn, and fucking finally fuck you senseless … you vicious, brat._ _Thinking you have us all wrapped around your finger every time you speak”._

He squeezed the valve again, Sherlock moaned louder and closed his eyes, gasping for air as his hips banged the bed with every single thrust. John was holding Sherlock by the hip as he was about to come. He felt so hot from the inside, his body irradiating warmth as John’s drips of sweat fell on Sherlock’s neglected prick.

John squeezed the valve one more time, at the same time Sherlock yelled from the top of his lungs (as much as he could) for him to stop. He came inside Sherlock in one delicious wave of ecstasy.

Lestrade released Sherlock’s neck from the restrain as John collapsed on his stomach, panting, exhausted. He licked Sherlock’s belly right before standing up to pull up his clothes.

Sherlock’s eyes were full of tears; not by fear of sadness, merely by his body responding to the urge of breathing and releasing … much more to the “releasing” part. Who the fucked needed oxygen when you were that aroused?

Mycroft approached his baby brother’s temple and pulled back the wet locks of hair falling down Sherlock’s face. – “_You did it so well, Lockie … you were brilliant” _– and gently brushed his cheek while kissing him softly. Sherlock’s breathing was coming back to normal, tired but pleased.

_“Greg, may I?”_ – said and smiling John whipping away his own sweat.

_“Be my guest, you won the night already, Watson. Might as well take the trophy and fanfares” –_ said Lestrade.

John joined Mycroft at the other side of the bed cupping Sherlock’s cheek.

_“Hey, look at me, you trust me?” – _John whispered.

Sherlock nodded.

_“I’ll make it all better”_

Sherlock smiled as he spoke with a deep voice – “_You already did” - and_ closed his eyes for a moment while they shared a chaste kiss.

John put his hands right below Sherlocks arse as he lifted him. He removed the cock ring with his mouth and started slowly sucking him. It didn’t even take him one minute before coming all over John’s mouth. Sweet taste of pleasure.

His neck was bruised, his face beaten, his lip parted, but all their needs… satisfied.

The three of them helped the youngest Holmes to sit straight.

_“Ok … good thing I’ve made heavy coats and scarves a trending fashion, now … dinner? – _said Sherlock, smiling.

_“Starving”_ – laughed John.

**Author's Note:**

> I felt so bad after writing this ... so bad but so good at the same time ...


End file.
